Rogers Oxford
by d lay knee
Summary: We know what happened to Roger up until the Gobblers took him from Oxford. But what about the journey to Bolvanger? What happened before Lyra showed up at Bolvanger with the gyptains? What's it like to be dead? Here's Rogers tale.
1. Theft

Rogers Oxford

The day of the big party, Roger had been detailed to wash the floor.

Again.

By himself.

Except he was never truly by himself, of course. His twin heart, the extension of himself, his beloved dæmon was always there beside him. Sharing his feelings, his thoughts and always having an opinion, Salcilia was always there for him.

Roger paused in his work as he looked at her, a beautiful swallow tail butterfly, bigger than most, fluttering in the air so as to not mess up the floor.

"What?" she inquired.

Roger shrugged and went back to work. "Just thinkin'," he said.

"'Bout them Gobblers?" his dæmon asked disapprovingly.

Roger nodded. "What if they took us? Lyra said they take dæmons away. If we was took… well… we're just a small boy and his dæmon in the kitchens. No one'd notice us 'til it was too late, I'll bet. We en't a powerful couple."

Salcilia shook her head. "Roger, don't talk like that. Lyra would be on our tail the moment we was took. She'd have all the townies and gyptains and Scholars and bickburners and servants all out lookin' fer us. Them Gobblers wouldn't even make it out of Oxford."

Salcilia momentarily turned into a cat and pressed her beating heart to his.

"I hope we see Lyra," Roger laughed. "She's goin' to this party. A Scholar party it is, too. Prolly got her all dressed up."

The boys' dæmon turned back to a butterfly. "Get back to work," she scolded playfully. "The faster we work, the faster we can join in Lyra's new war."

Roger smiled and began scrubbing the floors with a new fervor.

He didn't seem to notice the pretty lady with the golden monkey dæmon watching him in the doorway.

Salilia changed into a small otter and flipped into the bucket of soapy water, flinging some on the floor for her human.

Roger laughed at the grand display his dæmon was putting on but stopped when he heard a pretty, sing-song giggle mixed in with his.

He looked over his shoulder and rapidly stood up to face the new comer. When he was facing her, Roger went into a low, awkward bow as he had been instructed.

"Hullo, Missus. Do you need anything?"

The lady shook her head slightly from side to side and her shiny yellow curls bounced. "No, I just was wondering if you liked chocolatl?" she asked in a musical voice.

Roger nodded once. "Yes, Missus. But I need to get this large room cleaned before the Masters party. If you don't need anything, can I get back?"

She frowned slightly and Roger could have beaten himself up; he had displeased her!

"What's your name?"

"I'm called Roger, Missus," he said quickly.

"Well, Roger, I'd really like you to join me."

Roger looked down at Salcilia to ask her what she thought, but to his immense shock, she wasn't there. In a panic, he looked quickly around for her and found her flying to the monkey dæmon.

He put out a horny hand and she landed on it, immediately turning to a small mouse.

The golden monkey began stroking her and Roger felt oddly calm and reassured. "Yeah, I'll go with you if you want me to," he said, his mind on what her dæmon was doing to his.

"Grand," she said. If Roger had been paying attention, he might have noticed the snarl in her voice.

The beautiful woman took Rogers' hand.

"Hey!" he said suddenly as they walked toward the door. "You remind me of someone I know."

"Do I?" she said politely, her dæmon still petting Salcilia.

"Yeah," Roger said, enraptured. "I don't really know who."

"Ah," the lady said as they walked out of Jordan College.

"Where are we going?" Roger asked as they approached a big white van.

But the lady didn't answer. All she did was tighten her grip on his hand as her dæmon grabbed Salcilia even tighter.

Then a thought struck him painfully.

"Lyra!" Roger screamed at the top of his voice. "Lyra, help me! It's the-"

But at that moment, Roger was struck from behind and he caught the last glimpse of his Oxford that he would see.


	2. Billy

"Shh, he's a waking up," a voice whispered.

"Poor kid," another voice whispered. "I bet she got him."

"Roger?" asked a familiar voice.

Roger struggled to become more awake and focus. "Billy?" he asked, coming more awake now.

"Yeah, it's me," the gyptain said.

"S'goin' on?" the servant asked.

"Them bloody Gobblers got us, Roger. Them Gobblers got us and we don't know where we're at, or where they're taking us."

Roger leaned his head against the side of the van but immediately sat up and carefully touched the back of his aching skull. The fingers came away sticky with crimson blood.

"They hit cha pretty bad. I reckon it was 'cause ya were makin' such a ruckus. We heard it all the way in here."

Salcilia whispered something in Rogers's ear and his face lit up. "We called for Lyra. She'll save us. She'll rescue us all!"

Some of the other kids looked up.

"Yeah, my pa's a comin'!"

"Me mam'll git us."

"Grandad be comin' fer me."

And so on.

Billy smiled and looked at Roger. "I got a whole gyptain fleet comin' fer me," he said quietly without any conviction.

Roger turned his head and watched the streets of Oxford fly by, Salcilia curling up in his lap as an ermine, Pan's favorite form, thinking of Lyra.

She loved him and Roger knew in his heart she's come for him.


	3. Boat

The driver drove on and on, never stopping.

Rogers's stomach made a noise like an angry tiger. "When do they feed us, Billy?" he asked

Billy frowned. "I haven't been fed, Roger. We're hungry. I suppose we'll get some food when we get to where we're going?" he said with out any real hope.

Roger glared at Salcilia. "Ugh."

His dæmon betrayed his own agitation, changing from form to form, constantly flapping wings or retracing claws.

"Salcilia, cut it out," Roger whispered absently.

In retaliation, Salcilia turned into a crow, her most ugly shape.

Several of the other children looked at them in contempt.

"Salcilia, just calm down. Be a butterfly? Please, I really love that form, it's so beautiful."

She laughed silently and obliged without defiance; butterfly was her favorite too.

The van lurched to a stop. The door Roger was leaning against was thrown open and he tumbled out backwards and hit his head hard.

A big man sneered down at him. "Time to get out," he said, his wolverine dæmon snarling.

"Leave him alone!" Billy yelled, his dæmon a big panther when the man made to kick Roger.

The brute merely shrugged and told all the children to get out of the van.

Roger rubbed his head and murmured soft oaths he'd heard Lyra use as he and the other children were herded toward a wooden dock, a giant boat tethered there.

Roger stopped in his tracks. How was Lyra supposed to follow across the ocean?

"She'll find us," Salcilia soothed in a tiny butterfly voice. "She'll get us."

All Roger could do was hope as he was mercilessly pushed and prodded onto the boat.

They were led to insignificant quarters, one room with five bunk beds for seven children.

"You are not to leave unless summoned," the burly man said. "Understand?" he roared as if to drive his point home.

Roger held back a laugh; Lyra had played this card often, so he was no stranger to intimidation. It almost looked silly on this huge muscled man.

When he left, Roger heard the lock click behind him and knew it was useless to force the lock; he could feel the boat rocking. Even if he had somehow managed to pick the lock and escape onto the deck, where would he go? He didn't have enough endurance to swim through the vast ocean all the way back to the shore line.

Besides, they'd probably shoot him if he got off the ship somehow.

Roger looked at Billy. "Nothing to do now but wait. It's not the journey that matters, simply the destination." Roger was surprised at how philosophical he sounded. "Do you want top or bottom bunk?"


	4. Trollesund

Finally they were "being summoned"

Finally they were "being summoned". Instead of a fat hand pushing food through a cat flap, the big man with the wolverive dæmon came into the room, seven bulky black things over his arm.

"Come, he said in a deep voice. "We travel to the station by sledge now."

A small, unexplained shiver ran down Rogers spine.

The children filed single file past the big man, each being handed one of the black items.

When Roger got his, he discovered it to be a coal-silk coat; a garment that would keep him mostly warm in freezing weather.

Suddenly Roger remembered Lyra's passion about the North and all the passages she'd read to him about it. A coal-silk coat was a good under layer for the North, but nothing like proper furs.

A speculation began to form in Rogers mind.

And he was sure when they reached the deck. The bitingly cold wind stung Rogers skin and he hurriedly put on his coat. He looked around and saw most of the ground party had on furs.

But it was night. How was he even seeing this at all?

Roger felt a deep pull from his dæmon and looked up. The Aurora was dancing wildly yet gracefully in the black sky.

Salcilia hissed. "Yes, definitely the North."

They walked through Lapland's man port, adults leading children like a shepherd leads sheep.

The people on the street tensely ignored the new comers; apparently Rogers was not the first convoy to pass this way.

Roger kept his eyes on the hard packed ground, watching his feet as the bitter wind sunk deeper and deeper into his coal-silk coat.

The shivering children walked down Trollesund's main road and the passersby parted eagerly to let them pass.

When they were out of the town, the adults let the weary childred rest. The kids huddled together and whimpered in cold, each childs dæmon big and furry inside their humans coats.

All too soon the peace was shattered by the arrival of the barking sledge dogs.

The children were made to sit on the sledges by twos and after many shouts and popping of stiff joints the varavan was away, leaving a wake of relief in its wake.

The Arctic air stung Roger's eyes and made them tear. In turn, the tears froze and were painful to brush away. Amidst the scream of the wind, the barking of the dogs and the smooth speed of the sledge over snow, Roger fell into a fitful doze.


	5. Bolvanger

Finally they were "being summoned"

The sudden lack of bumps and an onslaught of bright lights woke Roger. He was stiff and frozen to the bone, joints popping as he knuckled the sleep from his eyes.

"'S goin' on?" he heard Billy mumble stupidly next to him.

"Duh. Billy. We have been taken by them bloody Gobblers. Wake up, silly. We need your head in the game. You were Lyra's best ad-vo-cat. Besides meself, that is."

Billy blinked his eyes slowly at Roger. "You're not making any sense at all, mate. And what the bloody hell is an ad-vo-cat? Where did you even come up with such a word, anyways?"

Roger giggled. "Aw, come on, Billy. I live and work at Jordan-"he stressed the name importantly "-College. I'm bound to pick up some of this stuff. Anyways, it's like your Lyra's number on con-fi-dant. Er, someone she tells all her plans secrets and adventures to," Roger added quickly at Billy's continually blank stare.

But at the last, the gyptains face lit up. "Oh, yeah! Like an apprentice. Okay. Yeah, Lyra tells me like, all her tricks 'o course."

Roger meant to roll his eyes, but they stopped in their tracks, for they had landed on the Station. A collection of low buildings connected by tunnels and covered with snow, Bolvanger seemed plain enough, but the atmosphere scared Roger to the point where Salcilia had to calm him down enough to not jump wildly off the sledge. If he had eaten for the past day, Roger was sure the contents of his stomach would be displayed openly for all to see on the icy ground.

He wasn't exactly sure what that atmosphere was; it was like cold fear, shock, pain and a forced cheeriness, a forced normalness all jumbled together.

And he really didn't want to go in.

Roger held Salcilia softly in one shaking hand and surveyed the other children. They just seemed happy to be able to get warm.

But Billy was as white as the snow around him; he sensed it too.

"I don't want to stay here, Roger. Mercy! I don't even want to go in, Roger!" Billy whispered hoarsely, more serious than Roger had ever seen him.

"Lyra's commin', Billy," Roger said, trying to sooth both Billy and himself.

Billy and Roger had all their trust in little Lyra.

A man came out of a door in front of the children and Roger saw that one of the Gobblers stood by a door bell.

The new man had a dead look in his eyes and a fake smile plastered on his face, his dog dæmon oddly still.

He rubbed his arms quickly then clapped his hands together. "Ah, hello, children! Brrrr, why don't we come inside and warm up?"

Roger took a deep breath of cold Arctic air and held it, not wishing to breathe the Stations air.

As if to spite him, the strange man took a deep breath and spread his arms wide. "Welcome, children, to Bolvanger! Here you will be kept safe and warm and fed." He gave a huge fake smile that stretched his cheeks but missed his dead eyes. "Enjoy."

Roger shivered despite the warmth at the coldness in the workers voice. He ignored the burning in his lungs, holding that breath still.


End file.
